


Gradually And Then All At Once

by mkiproff



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:13:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24861364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mkiproff/pseuds/mkiproff
Summary: Takes place sometime in The Bad Beginning. Last scene refers to Olaf's idea of the Marvelous Marriage.Any feedback is appreciated!
Relationships: Violet Baudelaire/Count Olaf
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Gradually And Then All At Once

Count Olaf was not a nice man. The moment the Baudelaires stepped foot into his mansion they were given a mop and broom. He would present them daily with a list of chores, scribbled in his barely legible cursive. And each day Violet would sigh to herself as Klaus would frown and argue that making children do all the housework was simply cruel and unreasonable. Count Olaf was a cruel and unreasonable man. His eyes would shine bright and laugh off Klaus' attempts at obtaining mercy. Violet knew better. She learned early on, far earlier than her brother, at what kind of man Olaf was. And it was not a merciful one. The actor was far too vain for empathy, instead leaving them alone for most of the day while he ran 'errands' with his theatrical troupe and God knows what else. There were however certain days he lingered around the house. Those were the days Violet found the most disturbing and, unbeknownst to her siblings, most exciting. Often he had a bottle at hand, already far too tipsy than was socially acceptable at 10am. Violet knew he spiked his coffee occasionally in the mornings. Other times he sat rubbing his forehead, complaining endlessly of a headache.

Violet often took care of the laundry, finding it almost peaceful folding and organizing it all in piles. Her and her siblings barely had any clothing left from the fire, so the majority of it was Olaf's. Sometimes Violet brushed her fingertips against his shirts and robes, smoothing it delicately and with precision. Sometimes, when she was sure she would not be caught, Violet would slip one of his shirts on, her frame small and fragile underneath. She felt closer to him when she did this, imagining his hands where the fabric touched her skin all over. His hands would be rougher, she decided, but just as warm. One time when Violet was left alone in the house while Klaus and Sunny ran to the market and Olaf was at a rehearsal, she stripped nude in one of the guestrooms. She always took a liking to Olaf's olive green robe, it's silk tempting Violet to reach out and touch. She slipped it on over her bare skin and wrapped it tight against her waist. She folded the sleeves to match her size. She carried on with folding the rest of the laundry, humming to herself, lost in a trance. The only time she dared to go into Olaf's room was to grab his dirty clothes and drop off the washed ones. And that was when she knew he wasn't inside. He was always very particular about who went inside and Violet never understood why. His room was filled in such general chaos it was hard to know what was what. Not only was it messy, it was dirty, full of dust and debris. This time was no different and Violet felt almost odd neatly stacking his freshly washed laundry in a pile by his bedside. She stood barefoot and narrowly missed the broken glass scattered by her from a broken wine bottle. Violet looked around for what she could use to clean the mess until she heard a noise in the far distance. Footsteps, ascending up the creaky stairs and towards the room. Towards her. In a panic, she hid behind the folding screen, finding a bunch of forgotten costumes tangled beside her. She held her breath and looked down, suddenly dreadfully aware that not only was she in Olaf's room, she was wearing his silk robe. The actor barged in dramatically, as if expecting an audience to greet him in a round of cheers. She bit her lip hard, finding this situation all too ridiculous and scolding herself for her own stupidity. Her cheeks were flushed ten shades of pink and her heartbeat felt like a caged bird trying to break free. She tried closing her eyes and breathing, counting from one to ten to ease her nerves. When she got to 'eight' she heard the door slam shut, alone once again in his room.

"Orphans!" She heard in the background and hastily ran to the door, opening it just enough to peak outside if the coast was clear. Violet only had to make it to the guestroom across the hall to where her clothing was kept and change before Olaf realized what was going on. She reasoned that he must have been downstairs by now, searching for her or one of her siblings. Violet prepared herself to sprint and was halfway to her destination until she collided with something. With him.

"Well, well, well." Came the all too familiar voice and Violet blushed ten more shades of pink. She took a step back, knowing full well she was doomed and trying to come up with a rational explanation as to why she was wearing Count Olaf's favorite robe.

He eyed her, stunned at the image before him, in his clothing, looking so small, so remarkably pure.

"Ran out of clothes, orphan?" His expression slowly turning into a sneer and Violet cursing herself again for being so foolish and so something else.

Aroused.

She opened her mouth to answer him but no words came out, instead she instinctively wrapped her arms around her, as if she could cover her shame before him. It made him chuckle now, his confusion turning into something Violet tried to suppress in her mind. Something she would think about long after this moment was over. He looked at her the way an adult looked at another adult they fancied. The way her father sometimes looked at her mother whenever they came home from the theater and retired for the evening.

Utterly self-conscious, she bolted to the guestroom, past Olaf and slammed the door shut behind her. It was not long after that moment that Violet felt her own desire filling up slowly inside, the way bathwater filled a tub. Gradually and then all at once.

There was another occurrence, on a Tuesday as she recalled, that she was busy chopping wood in the morning. Klaus was out buying ingredients for dinner and Sunny was inside scrubbing the floor in the parlor. Violet was always a morning person, freshly bathed and dressed, ready to perform the long list of dirty chores that awaited them. She wore her pink shirt dress and her hair was finally washed after days of neglect. She had even dabbed a bit of the perfume she had recently found in the washroom. She looked almost odd in comparison to the backyard with its overgrown weeds and years of neglect. If her parents were still alive they would have warned her that chopping wood without safety googles and work boots was unwise. They would have also told her that keeping your legs shoulder width apart kept you safest from landing the axe on your foot or toes. Violet never quite mastered the skill of splitting wood and it always took her a while to get the swing of things.

When she paused to catch her breath, she caught Olaf standing at the doorway, eyeing her. This was nothing new, he would always come out and scowl at her for making too much of a racket "so dreadfully early in the morning", cursing and mumbling indecencies under his breath before heading back inside. Only this time he stood there, leaning against the door frame, actually watching her. He was wearing his usual pajamas, covered up by his favorite olive green silk robe. The same one Violet was caught wearing weeks prior. He took a leisurely sip of his instant coffee and even more oddly, was smiling. Judging by the fresh stains on his robe, Violet concluded he must have made a few attempts at brewing his own coffee rather than yelling at one of them to do it. How peculiar. Violet made a mental note to wash his robe later when she had a free moment. Perhaps it was a peculiar thing for Violet to make note of but the situation itself was also very peculiar. Many situations between them seemed to be. Even more so as he descended down the stairs, holding his gaze on her. Instinctively she tightened her grip on the axe, poised and trying to prepare for what was to unfold. He walked in no hurry at all and finally stopped, the chopping block seated between them.

"Such a pretty girl like you shouldn't be doing such unrefined work."

Violet was shocked. "But I always do such unrefined work, thanks to you and all your demands." She answered, raising her eyebrows, trying to figure out his angle. Her reply only made him chuckle in amusement, as if she was bickering at him out of sheer endearment.

"Oh Violet," he beamed, sounding almost musical. "How lucky we are to have one another. Me, being the most handsome and most brilliant actor of my generation, and you, so helpful around the house and so...deliciously trusting."

Then came the butterflies in her stomach.

"What are you talking about?"

He hadn't answered her right away, instead inched closer, around the chopping block, towards her. He slouched forward so his face was level to hers. He grinned ear to ear, his (not so pearly white) teeth exposed. His breath was a combination of coffee and mint. Mint? Had Olaf actually brushed his--

"Do not worry that pretty little head of yours, Violet. There is an upcoming opportunity I am in the works of setting up. If all goes well, it will benefit me greatly." He took a dramatic pause and then shifted his position, catching a whiff of her perfume and with his mouth at her ear, whispered "...and for you as well."

She couldn't decipher at all what he meant but she remembered clearly how her body reacted to his nearness. To how intimate their moment felt and caused her body to burn. She had even purposely twitched so a part of her cheek grazed against his lips. When he straightened himself back up she frowned furiously, perplexed at a lot of things. What did he mean when he said it would benefit her as well? Why was he in such a good mood?

He turned to walk away but not before pausing to stare her down.

"I believe today is laundry day." His lips twitched into a grin and Violet knew what he was doing. He was teasing her. She swallowed hard and looked down at the wood block, suddenly pretending to be extremely interested in her task.

When he walked away, Violet wondered many more things. Why was it suddenly so hot outside in the middle of December? And why did she spend the rest of that day and night thinking about nothing else except Count Olaf's lips and breath and that damn silky olive green robe?

He tormented her.

Count Olaf was not a nice man.


End file.
